Claustrophobia
by Kora
Summary: in defeating darkness one finds strength. in strength courage and confidence, the ability to become a true leader.
1. ch 1

Claustrophobia

_Characters belong to Disney._

Ch. 1

            "He's just a boy, a street rat.  Only other street rats will notice him gone."  A heavy magnifying glass gave a wooden clunk as a hand dropped it onto a desk sloppily blanketed with newspapers.  

            "But sir," the contradicting voice, high and weak, stumbled, "the other boy, he has a family.  He's their main income at the moment; they'll certainly report him missing."  The skinny figure jumped as a fist struck the desk.  

            "Find a way.  That's your job; I give you a job, you find a way."

            "Sir," another voice entered the equation, "you can't break the law to this extent.  You don't have that kind of leverage, no matter how many times you sit the mayor down for card games.  This is a capital offense, you're tearing families apart—"

            "Silence!"  A hacking cough followed the violent proclamation, and continued to interrupt the ringmaster's voice even as he spoke.  "No more interruptions, no more excuses."  Arms flailed in incomprehensible gestures, seemingly of their own accord.  "I gave you a job, see it done, or see your jobs done."  Only the creaking of shoes on floorboards followed until the grave slam of the door.


	2. ch 2

Ch. 2

            Once.  Twice.  Again.  Again.  Like the waves of an ocean resounding from one hill to the next, the pain rolled through Jack Kelly's brain.  He opened one eye.  Nothing.  The other.  Still nothing.  Jack's eyelids shuttered up and down, blinking in a furious flutter of panic and shock.  _Whatsa matter?  Why can't I see?_  

            A moment later, his eyes adjusted.  _Oh_.  Putrid light seeped into the room from a window inlaid in the rough stone wall.  Four rough stone walls.  No, not four windows, four walls, all like the one, just one, wall that contained a window.  Not even a great window.  What purpose did it serve, anyway?  It hardly let in any light, and sat too high to climb through.

            Jack shook his head, immediately regretting his attempt to reorganize his babbling thoughts.  The juices in his none-too-full stomach made a sick splash inside him.  He felt his whole body lurch.

            Grimacing, Jack touched the back of his head, and winced even more.  A Brooklyn-sized lump clung to the back of his skull.  _Ouch.  That was one nasty soaking_.  His facial muscles drooping in a frown, Jack attempted to remember just what happened.  He couldn't.  A fist, many fists, and…the rally!  A whoosh of air accompanied Jack's lunge to his feet.  "Jeez, the rally!"


	3. ch 3

_Bows head in utter shame. I realized I did not thank the amazing, loverly people that have encouraged me, made me smile, made my day. I can't believe you're encouraging me to torture these people. *shrugs* I will continue,  if you insist…_

_Rae Kelly rocks! Woohoo! Hehehe. Yes. You're awesome, thank you._

_Klover__—I noticed you also encourage/review chronicles baily in her story that I absolutely live for right now. That makes you kick butt. Ahh, you rock too! Thank you very much. _

_ My Iolaus-what can I say? What could I possibly say? You're my master and humor sensei, and you're just amazing, and awesome, and so great, and one of my heroes, and no matter what you feel sometimes, you're just such a phenomenal person. Don't ever forget that, and I'm here if you need anything. Ever._

Ch. 3

"I trust you're returning here to tell me you've done what I asked." His fingertips touched their opposites, positioned like a little pyramid facing upward. It lent Pulitzer the paradoxical impression of an impenitent confessor, assuming the pose, but having no real remorse. "Otherwise, leave now. I do not allow those who will not follow my orders in my building."

Jonathon dipped his head in a gesture of confirming submission, looking as if he'd meant a bow, but changed his mind and returned awkwardly to a straightened back. "I do believe it's been done, sir."

"Believe? What is this…believe?" Rusted wheels shrieked as creakier joints forced them to roll around. Pulitzer's imposing leather chair turned to face Jonathon. "You either know or you do not know."

"Well, sir, you see," a tongue darted to moisten the anxious, dry lips, "I did not participate in the apprehending myself—" 

"Of course you did not participate," Pulitzer's hands went again into the air by his head, waving in frustration. "I cannot have my assistants seen directly connected…" the thought seemed to drop from the tycoon's mind. He trailed off, making no indicating of continuing. Hazy as fog, Pulitzer's eyes still settled, demanding, on his quivering prey.

"I did see the boys placed and sealed out of your way, and each other's," The words jumped into the air, one rushing after the other, desperate to protect their creator from further harassment. "They're separate, so as not to conspire with one another once they're awake." Jonathon's face trembled, each hand behind his back wringing the sweat from the other.

"They're not together?" Pulitzer nodded his head at the shake of Jonathon's. "Good. Away from here?" This time, one nodded after the other. "Good." Pulitzer reached for his favorite cigar, smoldering from its most recent use, and toyed with it in his fingers. "See to it that the means are provided to keep them there for as long as the need exists."

His neck bobbing forward, Jonathon ventured a question. "How long will that be, sir?"

Swiping a match against the grainy cover of a book on his desk, Pulitzer lit his cigar. "Until I crush this insolent nonsense." His eyes dimly followed Jonathon's frightened trot from the room. He drew a deep breath of the infectious smoke, blowing it into clouds around him. The embers of the charred cigar glowed a devious red.


	4. ch 4

_Thanks again to klover, rae kelly, and caroline.  And new thanks to T.H.  you can tell me it over and over again, but it takes me awhile to believe it.  the basic premise is that pulitzer arranged for david and jack to be "removed from the picture" two days before the rally._

Ch. 4

            Four grey walls.  They ran unblinking from floor to ceiling, swallowing the sparse room in the intensity of their wide, gaping mouth.  Only two interruptions broke the desperate monotony of the walls: a cruel celled window in one corner, and a small, sturdy, and most importantly, locked, door in another.  "I've gotta find a way out of here."  Jack needed to speak the words aloud to himself, needed some human noise to fill the vacuum of the room.  "The rally's tomorrow."

            In the past hour, Jack had ran his fingers over every inch of space, searching for a way out, one he knew wouldn't exist.  His fingers still rang from the stubbly granite of the walls.  "The rally is tomorrow," he muttered to himself, distressed, sinking onto the yellow dust of his cot.  He had to be there for the rally.

            "At least they've still got Dave," Jack rubbed his face in his hands, somewhat comforted by the familiarity of the newsprint, its light tarriness and inky scent.  "They can make it with Dave.  He's just gotta get the guts ta lead.  But he will."

***

            "Oww…" he moaned, his hand instinctively tracing the back of his head.  Finding a moist bump, David Jacobs withdrew the hand, pushing the thin layer of sticky redness that covered it from his mind, and let it and his other hand press against the cold floor to raise himself to standing.  He forced his mind to clear with the adjustment of his eyes.  Try as he might, David couldn't yet remember what happened.  He did know where he had to be.  "The rally…" a groan escaped his lips.  They needed to plan.  He'd been on his way over to the Lodging House to discuss that very subject with Jack when…

            Shaking his head, David decided to drop the reflections for now.  They aggravated his pounding brain.  The newsie focused on his surroundings.  Four dark, imposing walls.  No windows.  David checked the door knob to satisfy his curiosity, but found it locked, as he'd known he would.

            _I'll figure it out tomorrow, once I can think straight_.  David lay back down, unconsciously curling on the chilly, thin cot beneath him. 


	5. ch 5

_Rae kelly—hehe I'm glad I'm keeping you entertained. I always think I'm not, but I'm glad that I am!_

_Klover__—yay I'm glad I didn't get you yelled at! That would have made me sad. It's awesome you're enjoying this mores and mores! Woohoo!_

_Still muchos love to my Iolaus and T.H._

Ch. 5

The humming of swarming beehives vibrated through the room, the Manhattan newsie strike force reduced to chaos in the absence of their two leaders. 

"Where could they be?"

"Has anyone checked Davey's house yet?"

"Ya don't think they're backin out on us, do ya?"

"They wouldn't sell out, would they?"

A golden-tipped black cane beat against the floor of the Lodging House. "Alright, alright, everyone, shut ya traps!" All newsie eyes turned to Spot Conlon, standing authoritatively in the center of the lobby, his arms folded about his chest. "Stop fightin. With all ya jabberin, youse never gonna figure this thing out."  
"But you'll help us, wontcha, Spot?" Boots squeezed his hat meekly in his hands.

The Brooklyn leader's eyes flashed. "Oh no, youse gotta take care of that."

Buzzing voices swelled in the room, mostly outcries of "hey, you can leave us like this," and, "what will we do?"

"Hey, hey, hey, quiet!" Spot bellowed, waving his arms to order silence. His sharp gaze cut through each newsie, stabbing into the walls and floorboards. "Ya think I can just stick around here, and run things in two boroughs? I can't, I gots enough wit' Brooklyn. Youse gotta find a new leader or somethin."

"New leader?" The mix of voices came more hushed than before, out of fear and respect for Spot, as Racetrack Higgins stepped out of the crowd and faced Spot. "Ya say it like they ain't comin back."

Spot titled his head backwards slightly and studied Race's features, nothing something that might be useful. "Wese don't know if they'se comin back or not."

Now Race's eyes sparked. "I don't know what ya think ya know about Jack, but he'd never abandon us, ever." The others murmured in support and agreement. "And Dave, he's too responsible, he wouldn't just leave us like this."

His lips curling into a satisfied, triumphant smirk, Spot nodded his head. "No, they wouldn't. That's why I gots my boidies out, watchin and listenin. Till then," he clapped Race on the shoulder, letting the mask of his smirk disguise his pride, "Ise leavin you in charge around here."

Shock stretched to the corners of Race's face, pushing his eyes out slightly, as the room again leapt into frenzied conversation. "What? Spot, ya gotta be kiddin."

Spot jerked his cane in Race's direction as he made his way out of the door, into the twilight. "Don't let me down. Remember, wese still on strike." 

_Go read "a terrible time" by chronicles baily and "her name is may" by monkey mccartney b/c they're awesome and they play with davey too. Chronicles is even meaner to him than I am (and I love her for it) and monkey's being nice (which is always good, b/c not too many people are nice to davey either), and i just all around love monkey._


	6. ch 6

_I'm in a rush so I can just thank people in a quick list—T.H., Klover, Rae Kelly, and Caroline, THANKS! You all rock!_

Ch. 6

Jack strained his ear against the splintery wood of his room's door. Men he didn't recognize had just delivered lunch. He hadn't through until now, a day later, to attempt to hear their departing conversation, in order to catch possible clues that would aid an escape. _It's something Dave would think to do. I just gotta keep thinking like Dave, and I'll get outta here_.

Suppressing his thoughts, as they distracted him, Jack leaned harder against the door, holding his breath.

"…just gotta get food to the other one, then we're done." A gruff voice echoed just into Jack's reach.

"Mm, can't wait," the other huffed. "I don't like this business. Just a homeless kid I don't mind, but I heard the other's got a family…" The voices faded from Jack's hearing range. The information they provided twisted a socket, draining the hope Jack had built up in the last 24 hours from his body. He sunk to the floor, his face worn and weary in his trembling hands. "Dave's here. Out there, they don't got Dave…"

***

If he didn't attempt to move much, David could focus on his surroundings. A part of him insisted that he gather information to assist in an escape. That part of him felt increasingly fuzzy and distant, as it floated away.

Blinking several times, hoping the action would hold at bay the effects from the warm, wet stickiness slowly seeping into his curls, David tried to concentrate.

_We get food. Three times a day. Brought by two big men…rally…when's the rally? Have to be at the rally…two days? Tomorrow? Trapped…Pulitzer?_

Pulling his knees to his chest, David clung to his body. The walls seemed much closer than they had the day before. 


	7. ch 7

Ch. 7

            The sun raised its fiery fist and hammered on the cluster of newsboys below.  Streams of sweat bathed the faces focused on their new, hopefully temporarily, slightly unwilling, leader.  Wiping the salted water from his forehead with his hat, Race glanced at the legions of eyes focused on him.  "What?"

            "You're the one in charge," a voice from the crowd explained.  

            Gazing at the picket line, Race shrugged.

            "What d'ya want from me?  It's the same game.  Stay here, don't let anybody through."

            Offering a flickering smile at his friend, Kid Blink moved from his place in the ranks to hold a hushed conversation with Race.  "They wanna know about the rally, it being tomorrow and everything."

            Blink's words resounded on the hollow walls of Race's stomach.  "I don't know.  I now Spot's gettin up there."

            "Are you gonna talk?"  
            Drawing a deep breath, Race exhaled, sending with the discharged air his mind to a place farther away, like Sheepshead, where worries and responsibilities died under the beating hooves of the horses.  After a long silence, he said, "I dunno.  If I have ta.  I've gotta…" he looked back up to Blink with steady contact, "I've gotta make sure it goes well.  For Jack."

            "That's another thing," Blink dropped his gaze, glimpsing to the army of inquiring visages.  "Everyone wants…do you know where they are?"

            Closing his eyes and opening them solemnly after a moment, Race shook his head.  "No.  Spot thinks, I think too, that Pulitzer caught 'em and threw 'em in the Refuge or somethin.  They wouldn't just disappear like this."

            Gravity glinted in Blink's eye.  "Dave's family?"

            Race felt his shoulders sag.  His entire body shivered under the massive weight bearing down on him from the trusting eyes.  "They can mange, for awhile, wit' the mother and sister workin."  They went ta the bulls, but just got told that they don't got time ta search for ev'ry kid in this city that goes missin."

            Blink's head lowered, his weary voice floating to Race's ears.  "Whadda we gonna do?"

            Lathering his voice with the prideful, stubborn determination that kept his body humming, Race answered.  "We fight.  We hold the rally.  We don't let Jack and Dave down.  We can't let Pulitzer win."

_T.H. –dude, if I inspire you to watch the movie again, rock on.  Popping my DVD into the player is what started this, and I've had the most fun I've had in awhile.  Thank you for all your support.  It's completely awesome, b/c you're like one of my heroes.  Hehe I'm hoping to fit some guy bonding fluff into this, but I dunno if it'll go with the tone of the story._

_Rae Kelly—muahaha.  I can do it to you, I can do it to Jack, and Dave and everyone else.  What can I say, Jel's making me morbid, and this is the result.  Hmm.  I think I'll work some more Pulitzer in here before the end, just for you._

_Chronicles Baily—I know you can't review, but having you read and reply in the way that you can has just been awesome.  I'm like drooling at your feet as you write right now, just waiting for more of your awesome angst.  You should meet Jel, I think the two of you would really get along…hehe._


	8. ch 8

Ch. 8

Darkness breathed and flowed, ripping in various shades and colors. Black velvet, navy nighttime cotton, purple silk—all wrapped around David's head in a soft insistence to forget anything that had come before. 

David yawned, a sleepy silly smile settling on his face. He liked the dark. It comforted him, his only constant in these past thirty-six hours. If he allowed himself to slip into darkness, the pain and heat on and in his head melted away.

Somewhere something buried screamed and rocked in protest, insisting he free himself, and another—another that must be here. Another? Who else? David's forehead wrinkled. Another existed here? The darkness, morphing each minute into more swirling colors, wouldn't let David care. David did what the darkness wanted, because it made all the hurt, fear, weariness, anxiety, and hunger go away.

***

_It's a sure good thing Dave's around_, Jack thought, _else I wouldn't think ta think like him_. Jack had a plan. After studying his surroundings, he determined that his captor(s) must not think much of his mental capacities, for enough had been left in his room, so buried in dust as to be perhaps unnoticeable, to assist in an escape.

He could use the multitude of solid boxes to build steps to the window, which Jack felt rather confident he could kick and break. _Now I just gots ta find a way ta get Dave outta here._ A brief grin warmed Jack's face as he settled in a corner to wait for dark. _That is, unless he hasn't already figured a way out. He's probably out there, already organizin some grand rescue_. Still, foreboding lurked in Jack's stomach. So he sat, waiting for the blanket of dusk to hide his actions.

_T.H. – yeah this one's really short. The next one isn't, well, not as much as these have been. *blushes* aww, thank you. I really don't know what to say. The compliments and praise and everything is entirely reciprocal. I'm really really trying hard to find a way to work some guy bonding stuff into this, but the pace is just so fast, I don't know. Oh well, I'll figure it out. Dude, carve out some time to watch it. It's so worth it. *blushes again* I'm seriously walking on clouds to have you so happy. It's crazy._

_Dreamsock – haha I'm happily surprised you actually came here and found this! I'm the same way—lj and torn. During homeroom at school I always check mail and torn (lj's blocked). Haha yes yay for fun with davey. I had a horrible conscious crisis last week with beating up davey, but jel coached me through it and I'm better now. Aww, thank you. Compliments from you also mean so much. _


	9. ch 9

_Okay…at least i THOUGHT this chappy would be longer.  Maybe it just felt so b/c it has more action in it._

Ch. 9

            Its foot caught in an inky thread, the sun sauntered beneath the horizon, pulling the pitch sweater of night over the earth's head.  Jack watched the last prints of sunlight fade from the sky.  _The rally should be startin soon_.  With his vision in the dark sharpened by the past 48 hours of shaded imprisonment, Jack crept up his staircase of boxes, and began kicking at the window.

            The bars, he'd noticed earlier, had developed so much rust that they were a simple minute or two remove.  Satisfying scratches and shrieks of splintering glass soon rewarded the effort of Jack's heavy boot.  Anticipating the quick action of the next step in his plan, Jack dove from the boxes and ducked in a corner to wait.

            "What's going on in here?"  Dim light burst into the room as both of the thugs that delivered meals whipped open the door.  Springing from his hidden spot, Jack lunged at his startled opponents.  Neither too bright, especially when taken by surprise, they quickly fell to Jack's offenses.  

            Blinking in the rapid switch from virtually no light to a yellow hallway, Jack stumbled to throw open the first door he could find.

***

            Breathing came in short, stiff gasps.  The darkness, once David's friend, now loomed menacingly, teaming with the walls to bear down and suffocate him.  When he renounced his allegiance with the dark, David began to remember more things.  Like Jack.  David hoped his friend fared better than he, though he had certainty about Jack's capture.  If their malevolent "friend" considered David important enough to kidnap, Jack had to be taken as well.

            _I can't think…it hurts…_ David felt as if his head bashed against the wall.  He also swore the infection—the hot, sticky mess gluing the curls together around his wound could be only that—must cause the illusion of multicolored men, their echoing voices harassing him with mocking laughter, that frequented his room.  

            When the door creaked open and Jack's winded, concerned face appeared, David thought he dreamed this as well.  Allowing his rubbery limbs to relax and accept any fate, David gazed up at the mirage of his friend, and smiled weakly.  "Hey, Jack.  How's the headline today?"  

            David watched Jack's face meld into a worried pale, and surrendered to the fuzzy peace that settled over him.  He hardly felt Jack lift him, the elder newsie swinging David's arms about his shoulders.  Their legs hurrying to an escape felt like mere tickling motions in the greater downy pillow of David's darkening mind. 

_Rae Kelly—dude, concentrate on your finals, don't feel obligated to review when you've much more important stuff to be focusing on.  Good luck!  And soon you'll be free!  Huzzah!  I think I've definitely found a way to work more of your fave in for you, but that won't be for another few chapters.  Hope you can hold out till then._

_T.H. – that first paragraph now annoys the heck out of me b/c it's supposed to be "rippling" not "ripping" but I didn't notice the mistake until at school, where I couldn't fix it.  Aww, but thank you, thank you.  *ducks to hide behind something.  Doesn't take attention well*  Ahh you have to post something now too so I  can shower multitudes of glowing praise upon you, otherwise, I don't feel right._

_Aww, danke for the inspiration!  The next chappy's for you.  The opening scene will be allll T.H.'s idea.  Haha I can't claim much for this fic, since the plot wasn't even mine.  Ooh and I worked in a way for bonding.  Yeah!_

_Shimmerwings--*blushes* I seriously can't claim responsibility for any intrigue of this plot because it was Jel's, not mine.  I just wrote it.  Ah yes another David fan!  Finally!  Rock on!  I'm sure you read what I wrote earlier about his character.  I just love it.  I think it such a shame that he's so underappreciated.  For a lead character, too, second really only to Jack, it's insane that he's not focused upon more.  *Sighs* we all know that it's because in this unfortunately mostly hormonal-driven section, those without the looks, or without the "background character" mystique get passed over.  *Blushes* I'm guilty of David fluff.  My first fics had David fluff.  But he needed it!  I felt bad.  Thank you!_


	10. ch 10

_This chappy is for t.h., since she inspired the entire first section of this.  It wouldn't be here if not for her._

_"But you cannot stay in the dark for so long.  Something inside of you starts to fade, and you become like a starving person, crazy-hungry for light." –Amy Tan, "The Joy Luck Club"_

Ch. 10

            Racetrack's fingers shook as they allowed the worn cloth of Irving Hall's stage curtain to slide from their grasp.  "The entire city's wortha newsies is out there."  Swerving to let his back hide him from the stage, Race rubbed damp hands through his hair.  _Ise can't do this_.  The demanding glitter of Spot's eyes, and an annoying but essential fierce loyalty to Jack might push Race in front of the oceanic crowd, but the reluctant replacement leader could not guarantee any words save the natural "who's bettin?" to spring from his mouth.

            "Racetrack?"  A light tugging at Race's vest caused him to look down.  The wide and scared but trusting eyes of Les Jacobs caused his chest to ache.  He knelt to meet Les' question at an even level.  "Yeah, kid?"

            "When are Jack and David comin back?"

            Water threatened to seep into Race's lungs.  Somehow, when voiced by an innocent, the question asked by so many held sorrowful potency.  "I don't know."

            Les blinked and gulped.  His small frame quaked as he tried to compose the tidal wave of emotions crashing against his stability.  "Will you take care of us till they get back?"

            Rushing feelings pushed Race's knees to the floor.  His eyes focused on the floor's wooden boards as his throat muscles constricted.  Of all the newsies, Les could claim the best reason for debilitating grief, yet the near-ten year old knotted his fragmented strands of strength together better than the rest of them.  

            A feeble smile wrestled to Race's lips.  "Yeah, kid.  For you."  He tapped Les' hat forward, pushing it over his forehead.  

            Fixing the hat, Les gazed up at Race with the beginnings of hero worship that he so often settled upon Jack.  "For Jack, too?  And David?"

            Nodding wordlessly, Race turned and faced the stage, attacking it with newfound determination.  _For Jack and David too_.  

***

            David did not remember running feeling like tickling feathers on the balls of his feet.  His leaden appendages tingled, the only sensation afforded him.  Somewhere, he knew his body dragged across cruel cobblestones, but he couldn't bring himself to feel reality.

            Muffled lights, faded noises, pillowed smells—even Jack's arm supporting his shoulders, the hand keeping him upright—these were gloved, so that all pieces of reality floated beyond David's reach, separated by a blurry, impenetrable veil.  He struggled, but the fighting only sapped the last of his strength, severing his remaining conscious link with the real world.

***

            At any other time, Jack would dance among these damp streets, savoring the clean sweetness of cool, moist nighttime air.  Slippery cobblestones now became his greatest adversary.  Still shaken from the sight that awaited them when they escaped, trembling from his own exhaustion, Jack winced each time David's knee or shoulder collided with the ground or a building wall.

            Something in David's eyes panicked Jack.  The elder newsie understood the effects of captive claustrophobia—they'd driven him, nearly insane, from the Refuge.  How else could he have come up with that crazy scheme for escape?

            But within David's eyes lurked a warning of fever.  Jack couldn't bring himself to examine the wound on his friend's head.  So he did the most he could—rush to help.  A few bruises, casualties of the rough hastened journey, became of little consequence in the grander gravity of the situation.    
            Suddenly, David's body collapsed from Jack's grip, falling against the crook of space between wall and ground.  Jack's knees hit the earth an instant later, his frantic hands slapping against David's cheeks.  "C'mon Dave, you can make it!  Not now!  We'se so close!"  The distant lights of Irving Hall gleamed at the opposite end of the street, their lighthouse of hope a faraway beacon.  David moaned, and his head swiveled to the right.

            Frost threatened to transform the warm heat of urgency in Jack's body to ice.  He shook David's shoulders harder.  _He's gotta get up.  He's gotta be okay_.  "C'mon Dave, youse smart, think about it!  What do I do if I gets there alone, without my Mouth, huh?"

            David moaned again, and this time his neck appeared to struggle to lift his head.  "Y'mean…can't…think…anything…t'say?"  The words seemed squeezed out of a foreign lung, jumbled and mumbled, but they made the cold and dark leap in fright.  For a moment, Jack thought he saw a glint of defiance spark in David's eyes before his body again went limp.

            "We'se gettin outta here, buddy."  Barely hesitating, Jack lifted David from the ground, hoping his friend would forgive him for any blow to pride caused by carrying.  Stubborn determination gave life to Jack's aching limbs, propelling him to Irving Hall.  

_Woohoo, a chappy that's actually near my normal length for chappies!  Okay, here's the deal.  I delayed in updating because I don't have another chapter written after this one.  And I probably won't for another week.  I've got two important essays for my ap classes, both due next Tuesday, and one even counts as my final.  So I'll be a bit tied up.  But I'll try my hardest to get something written, just for all of you._

_Rae Kelly—yay no more finals!  *throws a no more finals party and hands out cheese*_

_Shimmerwings-*reddens* thank you.  I try to make things original sounding, like my heroes.  I have an awful lot of writing heroes.  Currently I'm way into Amy Tan and Sandra Cisneros, who just do amazing things with language.  Yeah, I'm developing it, but I still hero-worship Jel.  As I do many of my friends.  Dude, you're so right about Dave's character.  It's so multilayered, he could go so many ways, and next to Jack's, it is the most developed…Jack's character even has some holes in it, b/c they wanted to keep him more mysterious.  Mah, but too many people are drive by their hormones.  *Spits in the dirt, then kicks it*  Hehe, I'm looking forward to you looking forward…or something like that…I think I confused myself…_

_T.H.—ol' buddy ol' pal!  I wrote this beginning paragraph just for you.  Haha seriously, since you enjoyed the other one so much last time, I wanted to keep you intrigued.  Unfortunately, the structure of the story didn't allow for that kind of frivolity with this opening, but ah well, hopefully I made up for it in other areas.  *blushes* gah, you've got to stop talking like this to me!  I'm going to scurry and hide in my hole, I will!  *giggles* I found the second section funny.  But Jel's morbided me, so who knows.  Aww, I'm making you love Dave?  HUZZAH!  If absolutely nothing else comes out of this story, that is the one thing I want.  For people to love Dave.  *hugs him*_

_YAY POST SOMETHING!  Hehehe._

_*Hugs back* I loves you too!  _

_Chronciles Baily—'Cause I know you're out there.  Hehe hi!  Keep up the awesome work on your stories!  Yes.  Lol.  Hi._

_And my Iolaus—best for last, you know that!  And I know that you're out there too.  Gaw, (hehe haley's rubbing off on me) I'm so happy that you're happy!  And I hope that this is making you happy!  I hero worship you too, y'know.  Not with the morbidness, though, so it doesn't apply so much to you, but when I was writing floating kloppyhead with monkey, I tried to think of all you taught me, and to write something I know you'd enjoy.  Ise hopes you're enjoying this as well.  Loves ya!  *snugs*_


	11. ch 11

_Ise__ know this one is short, I'm sorry. But that's just the nature of the chappy. There's one left to go, and I have it finished, so you should see it up within the next few days. Oh and this chapter is for Rae, since I know she loves him so much. You inspired me to include him once more before the end._

Chapter 11

A wispy tendril of gray smoke weaved a curling pattern in front of two eyes that glowed an eerie, crazed sheen, giving a pallid light to the darkened and sunken face. Age lined the weary cheeks, bringing with it more obsessive hysteria than the wisdom that had faded years before. Underlings watched, hats both soft silk and rough cotton clutched before them in trembling white knuckles. They waited for a reply, one that could come either whispered or shouted from the manic leader. Each option was equally frightening.

"A battle lost is not a war lost, gentlemen." The gravely words hung in the air, neither party moving. A gold-ornamented clock ticked sixty times before voice or movement disturbed the busy stillness. "War is strategy." A puff of smoke followed the statement, drifting into the faces of those before the desk. None dared to cough. "One strategy fails, we try another, we succeed." Frightened pupils followed the finger striking a cigar, the ashes falling past the tray and mixing with newsprint. "Perhaps we require a tactic of a more persuasive nature."

Lips trembled, words pressed against them, unwilling to tumble further. They waited instead for a dismissal. 

A gnarled hand waved the onlookers away. "Find a way." Each nodding, the lackeys shuffled in silent file from the office. 

A battle won, not a war lost. None could tell what the following encounter would bring. For now, each side paused to nurse wounds and plan the next move.

_Klover__—I'm not a les fan at all either. He's a scary rodent child, if you ask me. But I really liked T.H.'s idea of having Race encourage one of the little newsies, and I thought using Les would be most potent, given his relationship to the two missing. I'm glad that you were able to get past your dislike and really feel the story! That's such a great compliment. Thank you!_

_Shimmerwings__—I'm claustrophobic, so a lot of the descriptions came from my personal experience. I'm really bad—no elevators, I hyperventilate on subways, all that sort of stuff. I'm paranoid about locked doors and everything. I can definitely see Jack being claustrophobic because he was locked up for awhile, and he always goes on about how he wants the space. And making Dave experience captive claustrophobia…well that was just fun. Mehehehe. *blushes redder and redder* What can I say, what can I say? What is there to say but thank you, thank you, thank you, and I hope I'm continuing with a story worthy of your most generous praise._

_Iolaus—you know I love you. What can I possibly say here to you? I really don't want to take up this whole space and all. Hope you're feeling less dazed! Hahaha. Your approval on this means the most to me out of anyone else's. I try so hard not to confuse you, because I know that if you understand it, everyone else will. *ducks shoe thrown at head* hey, I'm the same way…hahaha._

_Rae Kelly—I hope you enjoyed this chapter most of all. It's especially to you, as I said before. I feed off the suggestions of readers, because I think they add depth to the story. I seriously wouldn't have thought of jumping to Pulitzer briefly before the end, and now I think this story wouldn't be as good without this brief break, and I have you to thank for that._

_T.H.—HAHAHAHAH! I DID IT! VICTORY IS MINE! *coddles Dave* that, I consider the ultimate compliment. I love making readers like characters they weren't previously into. Now I just gotta work on Trilliah and Eowyn…You still haven't updated you know. *pokes* you'd better have a good excuse for that. 'Course it was a whole month at least for me, but I was burned out. You said you were done! Hehe I really should edit these. I don't. I write them longhand, type them up, maybe glance over them, boom, I'm done. Well my grades didn't suffer. Huzzah! I'm free! *guffaws* world-famous novelist just isn't going to happen. I don't think I have the attention span for an entire novel. I'm looking more at short stories and essays now (the fun kind of essays, on anything the writer wants), that sort of thing. Now you, you're the novelist. You've got the patience to do it. I sure don't. I'd get bored/stuck halfway through. That's probably why this shorter format suits me best. *sigh* I ought to be going now. *pokes* UPDATE!_


	12. ch 12

_I said a few days, it ended up being nearly a week…I'm sorry, it's been a crazy week.  But I had to get this in before I left for a bit, so here ya go!  It's been an awesome ride, and I'd like to thank all of you for making that possible.  You all rock!_

Chapter 12

            The bronze metalwork of Horace Greely shimmered in the early morning light.  A figure rose from beneath its slight shadow to meet the other, still half sleeping, staggering down the road.  "Feelin any better?"  Jack asked, squinting against the rising sun.

            Turning his face to the pale sky, David filled his lungs with air and exhaled as he stretched his arms as far as they'd reach to either side.  "Now, out in the open?  Yes.  I didn't sleep well, though.  After the fever broke, dreams kept waking me.  Had to convince Ma to let me out.  Needed the space…"  
            Jack nodded in silent understanding.  He knew enough from experience the affects of caging, and wasn't Mouth enough to try to find words that would make any difference.  "Les comin?" he asked instead, feeling that subject change would more suit the situation.

            "Later," David answered, rubbing his palms over his face.  "Couldn't wake him this early.  Sara'll bring him by later on her way to work."

            Feeling blood rise in his cheeks at the mention of Sara's name, Jack stammered for a reply.  David, who hadn't noticed, saved him by filling the silence.  "In all the bustle last night, I don't think I got a chance to thank you," David glanced from his boots to Jack's face, his eyes serious.  "You really…I don't know what..."

            "What's this—the Walkin Mouth at a loss for words?"  Jack clapped a brotherly hand on David's shoulder.  Noting David's own blush with amusement, he shrugged.  "Nah, forget about it.  It's nothing you wouldnta done if ya could."  With a curl of his finger, he indicated for David to come closer, as if to confide in him some dark secret.  "Really, all's I did was try ta think like you.  Like I said, hadn't ya been hurt…" he trailed off, just remembering something.  "How is that?"

            "Oh," David brushed the back of his curls with a hand, "Ma cleaned it and made me wear a bandage overnight.  I'll be fine; it just needed treatment."  He stopped and gazed around at the square, then glimpsed at his watch.  "The others will be here soon, won't they?  They'll want to hear the full version of the story."  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and looked at Jack, his face unsure.  "Are you going to tell them about the Refuge?"

            Cold nausea bubbled in Jack's stomach as he relived bursting from the window in his room to the open street.  He'd circled around, gathering his bearings, and nearly fell when he saw the dark stone of the Refuge looming at them from where they'd escaped.  He almost lapsed into a shock-induced trance-like state right there, in front of the window, had not David's feverish laughter at the irony woken him.  

            Now, the insanity of the situation caused Jack to smile.  "Of course," he answered with a trademark cocky grin.  "It's the perfect icin on the cake.  Their eyes are gonna go huge."  He paused to savor the thought—if his escapades were renowned for the Roosevelt incident, wait until this.  "'Sides," he added to justify his boasting, prompted by the knowing shake of David's head, "it'll really inspire the troops, ya know?  'Strike leaders escape from bowels of enemy fortress,'" he spread his hand across the air, imagining their feat in headline.  "Won't need no exaggeratin."

            David nodded in agreement.  "Yeah, that'll be good.  Though," a smile spread across his face, "I want to hear more about Racetrack, leader of the Newsie forces."  The combined laughter of brains and voice reverberated off the gleaming cobblestones.

            "Ya shoulda seen him Dave, woulda if ya weren't outta it."  Jack beamed, both proud and amused.  "Up there, pale as a ghost, shakin, but with the most determined look in his eyes.  He'd sooner lose a poker match than mess this thing up."

            The morning cries and song of departing newsboys banished further discussion.  A determined chunk of the group, mostly the youngest newsies and older ones, Jack's closer friends, made their way to Jack and David.  Glancing at Jack, amusement tugging at his lips, David made to move to the background.  Jack caught David's arm and turned him around.  "You tell them."

            "Me?"  David stared quizzically at Jack.  "I don't remember most of it.  I was incoherent for practically the whole time." 

            Jack shook his head, not accepting the excuse.  The time had come for David to learn.  "Tell them all ya know, I'll just fill in the rest."  Opening his mouth to protest, David continued to stare, pleading for help or advice, and Jack.  The crowd reached them before he could argue further.

            "So, you two big shots gonna let us know where ya been or what?"  Racetrack stepped forward, swiping a match on the sole of his boot.  

            "Takin charge again, huh, Race?" Jack laughed.  He stepped beside Racetrack and leaned an elbow on the side of the statue before straightening.  "Actually, Dave here wants ta tell the story.  And I thought ta myself: the ravings of a fevered madman, yeah, that'd make for some good entertainment."  

            Casting a final insistent look at David, he pushed his protégée forward and settled back to listen.  In the past few days, David taught him more than he'd learned in  years.  Now, Jack decided, he needed to return the favor.  That's what brothers did.

Finis. 

_Klover—I hope you get to read this sometime soon!  Wow, __Ireland__, I'm jealous!  Thanks for all of the well-wishes, and I well-wish you as well!  Sorry, a bit too out of it to find other vocabulary to use instead of well-wishing.  I really hope you enjoyed the ending!_

_Rae Kelly—I hope you feel better with crutches and all!  Haha well you're Pulitzer dancing  in spirit, and it's a very fun dance.  Sorry no Pulitzer in this chapter, but I really don't know where he would go.  *Sticks him in the shadowed dark alleyway, breathing heavily and watching the events through a telescope* There!  Yay!_

_T.H.—I'm glad I helped quench your ff craving.  Sadly, this is going to be it for a little bit.  I feel slightly bad, I really should return with a nice happy fic for david, but I just got the "wave a white flag" song after searching for it forever, so I can finally embark on that soon.  Ah, it's going to be evil.  I'm so excited!  I've had the lyrics for awhile (thanks to my loverly awesome friend Skitch), but I refuse to write a songfic unless I can hear the song.  It really helps me with the story.  And dude, after hearing the tone of the song…ahh it's going to be so twisted!  *boings*_

_*Cowers* don't thank me for the Pulitzer, thank Rae!  She inspired me.  I just sat and was like "what would she want…" But thankya!_

_*does the T.H. loves david dance* yay for davey!  He's so very awesome.  I feel really bad about what I'm going to do to him.  It's actually kind of sad b/c the only plot line that would fit the lyrics without being really scary (I absolutely refuse to make david evil) seems to be one of the latest trends in david ff.  there's been a rash of a few of these fics with the same main focal point of the plot, but I'll try to make it different.  And after that I'll try to make it up to him._

_You will be a perfect novelist.  You're practically acting like a professional novelist right now.  I'm just too much of a slacker to write a novel.  Well, I'm not a slacker.  During the summer I am, so I feel like one now.  But during the school year, it's insane._

_UPDATE._

_You're one of my heroes, T.H.!  Huzzah!  Just for how dedicated and awesome you are…_

_And you deserve quadruple the praise!  Muah!_


End file.
